


May the Dread Wolf Take You

by samusisagirl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Just smut, Post Trespasser, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 00:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samusisagirl/pseuds/samusisagirl
Summary: Lavellan wakes up on the eve before the final battle with three words echoing in her mind and a trail of red petals leading her through an eluvian. May the Dread Wolf take you... finally.Edited 1/28/19





	May the Dread Wolf Take You

When she awoke from her dream of a white wolf watching her from across a field of battle, there were three words that echoed in her mind. 

_“Come to me.”_

She sat up, the dream fading from her mind, but her eye caught the vibrant color of red beneath her cot. Flower petals, looking so much like drops of freshly fallen blood, leading to the eluvian that was always at her side. She paused and looked about her tent but saw nothing else amiss. Just the bright spots of red. She rose and pulled the heavy cloth that covered the mirror to the floor, and her heart stilled in her chest. The ancient elven mirror was glowing, the glass rippling like moonlight on water. She touched the jawbone pendant she always wore. It would be unwise to leave without telling someone where she was going, if she knew where she was going. But the three words from her dream echoed in her mind, and perhaps it had been less a dream than a message. 

She stepped through the mirror.

The trail of petals continued through the strange ruins that defied the laws of nature, leading her from one mirror to another. There would be a battle at first light, perhaps only a few hours of night still remained. She was being foolish, she knew. But still was walked on.

She had followed a real trail of blood to him once, not one made of discarded flower petals. And after that day, upon returning to Skyhold, she had the eluvian covered and kept it so at all times, even when she began to bring it with her on campaigns. She did not want to see her reflection in it's dead surface, hoping it would change to vibrant blue. Knowing it wouldn't. She never looked on it again.

Save for once.

In a moment of weakness, she had yanked the canvas away and raised her sword with the intention to smash it, but she had only fallen to her knees and let the tears flow free she had not been able to shed since he had left her kneeling in the ruin, her arm gone, her heart gone. She had simply pressed her palm to the aged glass, no different from any other mirror, and whispered his name. But it had stayed nothing but aged glass. 

The trail stopped, and she found herself in what appeared to be an elven temple, lit only with torches of veil fire. The small even stones across the floor were chocked with grass. Wild vines curled around the cracked and broken pillars about the perimeter of the room. The night sky was visible overheard, the once domed ceiling had crumbled in, pieces of it scattered across the temple’s floor. To her left was a courtyard down a short flight of stairs and at its center stood a giant stone wolf, its face turned up to the moon as pale light washed over its surface, turning it white. 

But it was the walls inside this room that made her heart thunder. Decorated from floor to ceiling was a chaos of murals, though these were not remnants from a past age. She recognized his hand in these, and she recognized the tales they told, for she had been a part of them. 

Directly before her was a mural of an elven woman, her vallaslin fleeing from her skin and her left arm made from glowing green light. Her hair was flowing as if caught by a summer breeze as rays of light shone all around her floating form. The jawbone was around her neck—a gift left on her balcony, discovered on her return to Skyhold. A white wolf watched her painting-self from above, its too many eyes vibrant red. 

The figure looked like the Herald they all had claimed her to be, not the Dalish elf she was, nothing more than a bystander who had stumbled into a story far larger than herself. All she had done was pick up an orb that had fallen at her feet. 

If she was anyone’s Herald, she was the Herald of Fen’Harel. 

The mural of her wore armor in the style she had taken to wearing in the past years, a mixture of ancient Elvhen and Dalish and Human pieces collected from her travels, hobbled together to represent how she had come to see herself. A part of so many, belonging to none. A golden gauntlet with tips as sharp as claws. Elven leather wrapped around her bare feet. A Dalish tunic, embroidered with golden leaves made from Orelsian thread. 

Now, however, she was wearing nothing more than a thin gossamer nightdress. It would offer little defense, though she doubted she needed protection here. This was his temple, after all. 

“Vhenan.”

His voice sent a wave of sparks over her skin, like he had cast a spell on her. She had only heard him speak in half-remember dreams for so many years. If she still prayed, she would have begged any god that might be listening: please don’t let this be a dream as well. 

She turned and saw him walking proudly towards her, appearing as if from the shadows themselves. He wore his golden armor with the faces at his knees, his wolf’s fur wrapped around him like a second skin. 

“You call me vhenan?” she asked, “Even now?”

“Bellanaris.”

They both moved to close the space between them, though stopped a few paces away. He lifted an armored hand as if to reach out, but let it fall back to his side. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, the words filling her both with pleasure and pain in equal measure. He had said those same words before. And then he had left her. 

She wanted to forget, to forgive. She wanted to take this stolen time and steal more if she could, but even now, there were things between them, more than just his armor and her silk. 

“This is not your face,” she said, tracing the lines she knew so well with her eyes. “Not your real face. A friend of Briala’s went missing before you… appeared. He had been one your agent.” She took a step forward, close enough to run her fingers along the length of his jaw, giving in to the temptation to touch him. She paused over the small scar on his chin, skin to skin after so many years. “This is his face, isn’t it?”

His eyes closed, and he bowed his head slightly. “Yes.”

She took another step forward, running her fingertips over his lips. She slid her hand to cradle his head, thumb against his cheek, fingers curling around his neck. “I don't even know you, do I?” 

“Vhenan--,” he began, his face pained. He pulled off his gauntlet and let it clatter to the stone floor to cup her cheek in his hand. She leaned into his touch and he said her name, his voice low and rough. “You knew me better than most,” he began again. “Knew the true me more than anyone--” his voice trailed away, his eyes shining with unshed tears. 

“We were only ever a dream, Solas,” she whispered back. 

He pulled her in, pressing every inch of her body to his own. “No,” he said, his voice edged with hurt. “What we had was real. You are real. You are real.” He sounded as if he were reminding himself of that fact.

His lips were so close, she would only have to arch her neck, raise herself into her toes, but she wouldn’t be the one to kiss him first. Pull him back. Not this time. 

“I want to see what you look like.”

He released her, eyes searching her face as he warred against himself for a moment. Would he show her? Could he? He pulled off his other gauntlet and let it fall beside the other.  


“Close your eyes,” he rasped. She did. Slowly, he brushed his thumbs over her eyelids and whispered soft words, his touch feather light. There was a current to his touch, like lightning dancing over her skin.

“Open,” he commanded.

She hesitated, her chest suddenly tight. He chuckled softly. His voice was the same. 

So, his voice had always been his own. She was glad of that. Her eyes opened.

And Fen’Harel stood before her, every inch an Elvhen trickster god. Even if she had not known his name, she would recognize this man as the Dread Wolf on sight alone if he had appeared before her. He was terrifying. And beautiful. Nothing like the People who called themselves elves now. Fear and longing swirled inside her, spurring her heart to thump against her chest so forcefully she knew he could hear it. His sly smile told her as much. 

Despite this new face, he held himself the same. His smile was the same, though his skin was darker and his features younger. No, not younger, she realized. Ageless. As if time itself could not touch him. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkened temple like they were filled with veil fire themselves, pinning her like a predator stalking his prey. His hair was long, tied back from his face with the sides shaved clean. A wolf’s skull adorned his crown, its teeth still white and sharp. 

Her hand hovered over his new skin, afraid to feel the true face of a god, but he clasped her hand in his own and pressed it to hips lips. Hot breath coursed over her skin and she shivered.

She breathed the name her people called him when warning children to behave or wishing a friend to never meet him before a journey. 

_May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent._

She wanted to laugh. She had been doomed from the start. He had caught far more than her scent. Her heart was still cradled in his hands to do with as be pleased, even after all this time. Even now. Always. 

She smiled sadly. “Fen’Harel.”

“That is not my name,” he said, a darkness to the edges of his voice. He pulled her hand forward to draw her near, his eyes boring into her own, his teeth almost bared in a snarl. “I don't want to hear that title from your lips.” His features softened and he closed his otherworldly eyes. "Not from you."

“Solas, then,” she whispered. He had been Solas first, had he not? He had never wanted to be a god. 

“Again.”

She said his name again and she wondered how long it had been before they met at Haven that someone had called him something other than an insult or a threat. That someone had truly seen him as just a man, not a monster or a god. Seen beyond the surface. Perhaps that was why he always favored the fade. Appearances could deceive. Souls were always true.

A small noise rumbled from the back of his throat and she stilled. Gods, it felt like blasphemy. But she had stopped believing in the gods a long time ago. 

“Why did you call me here?” she asked, her voice fracturing under the weight of his gaze, the feel of his body so close to hers. 

“I wanted to see you.”

He released her hand and curled his forefinger under her chin, tilting it up to meet his lips. He leaned down and kissed her gently, his eyes open to see her face as she kissed him back.

She pulled away, not ready to give in completely just yet. “I believe you once called this impulsive… and ill considered.”

“Then allow me to be impulsive.” He gave her a closed lip smiled, but it was tainted with sorrow. “One last time.”

She knew the last part was for his own conscience, a promise to himself that he would only divert from his objective this once. Give in to temptation only for the night, then steel himself for what he must do at first light. But his indomitable resolve was slipping, she could see it in those beautifully terrifying eyes if his. The inevitability of his path had finally begun to wear on him, and she knew he knew this was the last time he would be able to take comfort in the fact she was alive in the world, even if she were far away. The knowing, even without seeing, had been enough to keep them both from breaking, even though their paths would lead to an inevitable bitter end. 

“Allow me this moment of weakness,” he said, his voice rough, like stone against stone. He was asking permission from her, as if he needed her to say he could remove his unyielding mask. 

He lowered himself onto his knees, staring up at her with his glowing eyes as his hands clutched the back of her thighs. She stoked his hair, and he closed his eyes, pressing his face into her stomach. It was his turn to shiver at her touch and she marveled at the sight of a god on his knees before her, shuddering against her.

“Lama,” she whispered, “ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.”

As soon as she spoke the words, she could all but hear his mask shatter on the floor as the last threads of his self-control snapped. Perhaps he had expected her to push him away, as he had been so sure she would do that day in the elven ruins. Or at Crestwood. She had asked to help him, and he told her he must walk this path alone. He would not have her see what he would become. But she had seen what he had become, she had seen his true self, and she loved him still. She would always love him.

He rose to his feet and lifted her into his arms, eliciting a gasp from her as he fade-stepped into another part of the temple. There were furs spread across the floor, and a long table was set at the opposite end, covered in small artifacts and old books. The walls were decorated in more murals of his own making, a small set of brushes and paints lay huddled against the wall below a half-finished piece. Was this where he lay his head at night? A crumbling temple with only the floor for a bed? It was a humble dwelling for a god who commanded armies. This place was more suited to an apostate in hiding, not the Dread Wolf who had cast his shadow over Thedas.

“I was Solas first,” he rumbled into her ear, as if he could read her thoughts. “I never lied to you.” 

He set her down on the furs, her toes burying into the softness of them. He stepped back, and she watched him as he slowly shed his armor piece by piece, his eyes never leaving hers. As each new part fell away, her heart stuttered in her chest. When he was left in a simple tunic and breaches, he closed the space between them again, sliding one hand down her back to pull her flush against him, his other hand wrapped gently around her throat.

He went to kiss her, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips. 

“I want to see the face I know.”

“The face of an old hedge mage who wore mended clothes?” he asked, eyebrow quirked in surprise. “Does this face not please you?”

“Is Fen’Harel not used to being rejected?” she asked, a smile playing at her lips. 

He chuckled, stroking his thumb along her neck. “As you wish,” he said, “but permit me another kiss.”

She nodded once, then he kissed her deeply, lingering, perhaps he wanted to savor a moment of him touching her as himself.

When she opened her eyes, the magic that had transformed him had faded and he was Solas again. Her Solas. “I like this face,” she said, drawing her fingers down his once again familiar features. 

“I have grown accustomed to it,” he said. “though I don’t know what you see in it.”

“The face is just familiar,” she said, “it’s the man beneath I love.” Her eyelids lowered, her voice dropping into a purr. “Kiss me again.”

He crushed her to him then, his mouth slanting over her own, his tongue sliding along her bottom lip before entering her mouth. Her legs felt like they would give way at any moment. She grabbed a handful of his tunic and pulled him down onto the furs, their lips never parting. He obediently lay back, propping himself up against a pile that served as a make-shift pillow and she laid beside him, one leg entwining with his. She rested her hand against his firm chest, feeling his heart pounding under her touch. His kisses left her mouth to trail along her jaw, down her neck. He slipped his fingers under the strap of her gown and pulled it away to lay a kiss on her bare shoulder, sighing against her skin. Heat pooled between her legs, her hand clutching now at his neck to hold him against her. She wanted to feel him, really feel him. If he had called her here to simply hold her and cover her with chaste kisses, she would go mad. 

“Solas,” she moaned, sliding her leg up his own, pressing her center against his thigh. She rocked gently against him, desperate for pressure. Friction. She wanted this. She needed this. “Please.”

He pulled away, still hesitant to cross that last boundary. But his eyes were hungry, his breathing quickening. She knew he could feel the heat of her against him, even though the fabric of his breaches. 

“Vhenan,” he began. It sounded like an apology, but she shifted and pulled his face back down to hers, biting gently at his bottom lip.

“Please. I want to feel you.” Her hand slipped from his neck, down his chest, finally stopping to run along the already stiffening length of him beneath his clothes. “I want to feel you inside of me," she said, then added the words he had spoken not so long ago. "One last time." 

He groaned against her mouth, his eyes fluttering closed as his hips betrayed him, grinding himself against her hand as she stroked his cock, quickly growing harder under her touch. 

She ran her tongue up his jaw to his ear, gently taking his lobe between her teeth for the briefest moment before releasing it. His ear was hot against her lips as she pressed them against it. “Did you not ask me to allow you to be weak?” she whispered. “Allow _yourself_.” 

He swallowed audibly but grasped at her hips and hauled her on top of him so that she was straddling his waist. He ran his hands up her sides, pausing over the small swell of her breasts, kneading them slowly as her nipples grew taunt against the fabric of her dress. His thumbs brushed over them and her entire body shivered. She braced a hand against his chest, grinding herself against his cock as it strained against the fabric. Sounds of pleasure escaped her lips as she moved along him, the heat at her core burning as it yearned to be filled. His fingers dung into her flesh, his back arching slightly to press into her. 

“Yes, vhenan,” he moaned, pushing and pulling her hips against him. She could feel the wetness between her legs soaking through his pants, feel the heat of his solid length against her. Her heart was fluttering, making her feel faint and dizzy, like she had drunk too much Tevinter wine. 

Each breath was short and sharp as she worked herself into a delirious frenzy, but it still wasn’t enough. She didn’t want this to be their last night together, grinding against one another like fumbling adolescents in the back of an aravel. 

She stilled, her breathing ragged. His eyes met hers, silently pleading for her to continue, but she only released the pins that held the straps of her dress in place, letting it fall in a heap around her waist, the hem already pulled up at her thighs. His pupils widened ever so slightly, and he sat up to draw the dress over her head, tossing it aside. She was completely naked now. Her nipples tightened even more in the chill of the open air, and to her surprise, he took one in his warm mouth, laving his tongue around the sensitive pink skin as he cupped her ass with his right hand, working her other breast with his left. He raised his knees behind her, trapping her in place as he nipped at the raised bud, rocking her body against his throbbing member. 

Her fingers gripped the back of his neck as she clenched her teeth, trying to stifle the moans he could so easily provoke in her. 

“Solas,” she breathed, and he paused, looking up at her, lips gleaming with wetness. 

“Say it again,” he growled. He took her other nipple between his teeth and bit down, his pelvis grinding against hers.

“Solas.” His name was barely more than a pant.

“ _Again_.” He dug his nails into the soft flesh of her ass as he dragged his teeth across the thin skin of her breast, breath hot and wet. 

“ _Solas_."

In one quick motion, he flipped her onto her back and she stretched out across the furs, clutching at them as he practically tore his tunic over his head. He was more deliberate with his breaches however. She bent her legs, pressing her knees together to quell the fire that licked at her core. 

He looked down at her, her hair spread out around her head, her face flushed pink. Her chest rising and falling in uneven swells.

“Are you certain you want this,” he asked, his fingers pausing at his waistband. 

She opened her legs in answer, displaying herself to him, slick with her own desire. Her hand slipped down to touch herself, gliding effortlessly along her folds. “Yes,” she groaned, splaying her fingers to part herself for him. “Please. _Solas_.”

A guttural sound ripped from his throat and he slid down the band of his breaches, finally releasing his aching member. 

The sudden realness and rawness of it, hard and smooth as marble as it jutted out towards her, made her center throb and burn with an unquenchable heat. She was desperate to touch him, taste him, all the things she hadn't done in so many years. He kicked his legs free and crawled toward her, his eyes traveling down her body to the place between her legs.

“May I?” he asked, lowering his face between her thighs. He looked up to her, his eyes dark.

She could only nod. 

His tongue was hot against her, licking slowly up along her wet pink flesh. He moaned, and she felt the vibration of it shoot through her like a slow arrow. Unable to resist, she ground her herself against his mouth, her hand releasing the furs to clutch the back of his head. He slipped his tongue inside her, burying himself further between her legs as his own hips ground against the furs, jerking rhythmically as he rolled his tongue around her entrance, then ran it up to suck gently on her throbbing clit. 

Her thighs squeeze together as his tongue and lips worked against her, bringing her further and further towards the edge. He wrapped an arm around one thigh, spreading his hand across her stomach, as the other hand began to rub against her folds as his mouth focused on her clit, swirling dangerously around it until she thought she would scream out in frustration, only then to take it gently between his lips, or sometimes his teeth.

The feeling of one of his long fingers sliding inside her made her hips buck, nearly undoing her right then and here. He chuckled against her and she groaned at the ripples it sent through her again. Slowly, he slid his finger in and out until her toes curled and her breath became ragged gasps. Then he added a second, curling them slightly to draw long the sensitive place within her, his tongue and lips pressing down more firmly as he increased his pace. She writhed beneath him, hooking her ankles as she wrapped her legs behind his head, grinding herself against his mouth and fingers until she could feel the heat coiling deep within shudder and release, exploding through her in waves of the most delicious ecstasy. Her feet slipped back down the fur, her legs spreading open as she panted, too spent to hold them upright. 

He pressed a kiss between her legs then slipped his fingers free, drawing them down her folds one more time. She shuddered again, over sensitive to his touch, but wanting it all the same. After a moment, he rose up onto his knees, his cock still hard, the tip leaking clear precum down his shaft. He spread his fingers, and she saw a string of wetness spread between them.

“My, my,” he said. He ran his other hand along the inside of her thigh as he placed his fingers in his mouth. The sight of him tasting her, licking her from his hand nearly made her shatter again. 

He sank down, his own thighs spread apart with his legs folded beneath him and wrapped his hands around her ankles to pull her closer to him. She could feel the heat of his body against her center as she placed her feet on either side of him, legs shaking in anticipation. Just a little closer and he would be inside of her, fucking her, filling her at last. She watched as his hand went to his cock, stroking the wetness from his hand, from her, along his length. He ran his hand around its head, his movements slow and languid as he teased her with his own pleasure. 

She tried to slide towards him, desperate to feel him, the place between her legs aching with the want of it. He chuckled but pressed his hips forward to allow his tip to run along her folds, drawing it up and down, yet barely touching. She was still tender, but she didn’t care. She wanted the pain. She wanted him to touch her and taste her and fuck her until she felt raw and flayed open before him, until she couldn’t stand it, and yet still wanted it. 

His hand movements quickened, his own sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. He wrapped his hand around his cock firmly, his other hand grasping her knee. She could see the desperation for release in his face, his eyebrows knit together, his lips set in a hard line. Was he still too afraid to take that final step?

She grabbed his hand, and his eyes locked on hers. “Solas,” she said, wrapping her fingers through his to pull her forward onto her knees. She pressed her body along his as he rose to his knees to meet her, his cock hot against her stomach, pressed between them. With her only hand, she brought his face down to hers, tasting herself on his lips. They kissed slowly, tentatively, as if this were the first time their lips had ever met. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but remembered the stump that was her left, the remnant moving awkwardly to wrap around him, only to find nothing to move. 

Sorrow and guilt flashed across his face and she knew what he was thinking. He had done that to her. 

“Vhenan,” he began, pulling away. It was his orb that had given her the mark, and it had been him that had removed her arm to stop it from killing her. 

She pressed another gentle kiss to his lips. “It's all right,” she whispered, “it’s all right." 

He ran a hand down what was left of her arm, feeling the scarless skin from the magic that had removed it. She pressed back on his chest, and he looked at her, confused if she was telling him to stop or asking him to leave. She only smiled. 

“Lie down,” she instructed. “It’s my turn to taste you.” 

He stilled, eyes flicking down to her mouth, then back to her eyes. Without another word, he slowly lowered himself down onto the furs, but remained propped up on his elbows to watch her as she followed him, her face settling between his legs this time. His cock twitched at the feel of her warm breath against him and she smiled again, her hand finally able to run along the impressive length of him. He was solid and hot under her touch. She drew one finger along his shaft, then circled the head slowly. His head fell back, and a moan rumbled from his lips.

She took him in her mouth then, tasting the salty sweat of him as she rolled her tongue around the tip, then took him all into her throat. She groaned against him before lifting her head, using her hand to work the wetness along his length. His breathing was heavy, but he was watching her again and she made sure to keep her eyes locked on his as she took him once more into her mouth, her lips working in tandem with her fingers to stroke every inch of him. She flattened her tongue on the underside of his head, licking slowly before again rolling her tongue around the tip, her fingers still wrapped around him, sliding along his length before she quickened her pace, tightening her grasp and adding more suction with each pass of her mouth. Her hand moved down to cup his balls, cradling them as she bobbed up and down, making a sloppy mess along his cock with the wetness from her mouth. It dripped down onto her hand as she worked it over the firm sack, feeling as they tightened in her grasp. He wouldn’t last much longer now. 

She took his entirety in her mouth again until she could feel him in the back of her throat, his hips jerking against her as he fought the urge to fuck her mouth. She sucked hard as she moved up, and released him from her mouth with an audible pop, returning her hand to work up and down his length, faster and faster until he was gasping and shuddering, digging his own hands into the fur. He moaned her name, his eyes still on her. So close. 

She removed her hand to lick along his shaft, dragging her lips against him as she gently returned to kneading his balls. His cock twitched against her lips, a line of clear liquid dribbling down his length as he clenched his teeth, the line of his jaw muscles standing out against his face. He was desperate for the pressure, for the heat and wetness of her mouth. His eyes were begging for her to finish him. She only pressed a kiss to his tip and pulled away.

He swore under his breath. " _Fenedhis_." 

Her core was throbbing with want again, and she could feel the wetness dripping down the inside of her thigh. If she didn’t have him now, she felt as if she may break into a thousand pieces. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a half smile as she climbed on top of him and he lay down on his back, his hands running up her legs as she lowered herself down to press her aching center against him. Gods, just the feel of his cock along her was enough to send a pulse of heat through her. She rocked back and forth along it, covering his member with her own arousal, savoring how his harness ground against her clit. 

Finally, she shifted back to stoke him with her hand, gliding her thumb over his head now slick from herself and her mouth. A shudder of pleasure coursed over her at the thought of him inside her, filling her completely. 

His fingers dug into the backs of her thigh, nudging her forward ever so slightly.

“I—” he began. He was panting, hands shaking. “I cannot wait any longer,” he breathed. 

She rose onto her knees and guided him to her, running it between her folds for a tantalizing moment, reveling in the way he groaned as he twitched against her. 

“Vhenan, I—”

Before he could finish she lowered herself onto him, gasping as he stretched her, feeling him jerk inside of her as his hips bucked to deepen himself. She rocked against him, the tightness between her legs growing with each subtle movement as she worked her clit in small circles were she and him met. His hands moved to grasp her waist, holding her down on top of him as his own hips ground against her.

She bent down to meet his mouth, needing to touch him everywhere she could. Their lips crashed together, tongues searching desperately as he wrestled control from her.

She dug her nails into his shoulder, pressing her chest into his, her tender nipples rubbing against him as his cock slammed into her. He clutched her ass with both hands now, his feet on the floor, knees bent to ram his hips against her, each thrust punctuated by her desperate moans and his ragged breathing as the indecent slap of skin against skin echoed around the small room. 

“Solas.” She cried his name, sinking her teeth into his shoulder to muffle her shrieks of pleasure. She had thought him on the edge of coming before taking him inside her, but now he fucked her with a frenzied pace that threatened to send her over the edge.

“Yes. Say my name,” he growled, his nails biting into her skin. 

She moaned his name against his shoulder again and again. She could feel hot tears rolling down her face and onto his skin, the overwhelming pleasure of his hard cock inside her racking her body with the same drunken stupor she had had at the feel of his mouth on her. The memory of it sent a new shock of heat through.

He tensed slightly, and she thought he might come, but he only flipped her onto her back, still inside her, and resumed his former pace, though now he was ruthless. Her entire body was shoved back with each powerful thrust, sliding along the furs. She clawed at his back, a litany of his name and pleas and yes’s falling from her lips. He grunted into her neck, the wetness between them audible. This was nothing like their times in the Fade. This was vulgar and primal. This was something the Fade never had: the sounds of their fucking, the smell of their sweat and arousal, the taste of him still on her tongue, mixing with her own taste from his lips. This was real. And she cursed him for denying her this for so long.

His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose more of her neck for him to bite and lick, his hips still moving at a punishing pace. He sucked against the delicate skin of her throat, and she knew he would leave a mark. 

A moment later, his movements grew frantic and his breathing came out in sharp gasps as he wrapped his hand more tightly in her hair. 

“I’m nearly—,” he growled, biting down on her ear before he started speaking words she could not understand, chanting them like a prayer. She could feel her own release teetering on the edge and she slipped her hand between her legs, working her fingers against her swollen clit. He met her eyes, his free hand moving to wipe away the tears that ran down the left side of her face with his thumb. His kissed the other side’s tears away. “Come for me, vhenan,” he rasped. 

She moaned, the sensation of his cock driving into her edging her closer and closer as her fingers pulled her over the precipice.

“Solas,” she panted, then shattered, wrapping her legs around his waist to hold him against her as the tension coiled tightly inside her released in wave after wave. Her core’s muscles clenched against him and she felt him give one last thrust, then the sudden burst of heat as he spent himself inside her, his cock twitching as he found his own release. 

They both collapsed onto the fur, him still on top of her, his cock still inside her, their chests heaving as their sweat and breath mingled together. He pressed a kiss to her throat and brushed the damp hair from her face. 

“Ar lath ma,” he said softly. “Bellanaris.” 

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and into the fur beneath them, and soon sobs were racking through her body and he clutched her to him, kissing her face and smoothing her hair as they lay tangled together.

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan.” His voice was filled with the sorrow he offered. “Ir abelas.” 

“Tel’abelas,” she said, though the words were broken between her tears. 

He held her as she cried into his chest, whispering gentle words to her. Sometimes they were words she knew, sometimes ones she did not, until the sobs finally abated. 

After a long while, she said, “I wish we had more time.”

He tilted his head slightly, meeting her eyes. “Perhaps we can.” He lifted a hand and made a shape in the air, his mouth moving to speak inaudibly. A strange hush fell over the room, as if the world had stilled around them and only they existed in it.

“How did you—” she said, but just shook her head. “How long do we have?”

“As long as you want.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, drawing his hand down her neck before kissing her there as well. “But morning will come.” 

She nodded and curled her body against his as he draped the furs over them. She fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating steadily under her.

**Author's Note:**

> You made it to the end! I'm sorry.
> 
> Note: I was playing with the idea Solas jumped from body to body like Mythal did with Flemeth, etc... so Solas took Fellasan's body from The Masked Empire. Just a theory! I don't actually agree with it, but thought it was interesting.


End file.
